Down the Mountain
by gopadfoot
Summary: Molly is confused about Sherlock. He meant what he said, but what did he mean? When Mycroft shows up to explain, her confusion grows. How did she bring Sherlock down from the mountain? Was she, indeed, the only one who could make him feel human emotions? A not-quite-Sherlolly, but almost.


**A/N:** There have been an abundance of adorable Sherlolly fics written in the aftermath of TFP. After all, Sherlock said he loved her. Molly said it back. What could be more simple?

Yet in the show, we are taken on a journey through the aftermath, and we don't see what we expected. Molly is there, yet she doesn't seem to be romantically involved with Sherlock. So what did that exchange mean?

This is my take on it. It's not anti-Sherlolly. In fact, that might yet happen- one day. But Molly's reach on Sherlock goes far further than mere attraction. In fact, she was the one who made Sherlock be human once again.

* * *

"I still don't understand," Molly Hooper said softly, blinking back her tears. It was humiliating enough to live with the knowledge of having exposed herself to that man in front of her once. Although she hadn't been quite aware of it at that time.

"What does he want now? How am I, I mean, do I need to act as if nothing happened, or say something, or..." she trailed off, blushing in embarrassment and confusion.

"Miss Hooper," the man said, his voice gentler than she had ever heard it. "I think this should be purely your decision to make. You should act in whichever way you feel most comfortable, and I'm sure my brother will adapt." He paused. "Or I'll make sure he does," he added, with a hint of steel.

"But, what did he _mean?"_ she blurted out. "I just don't understand. I mean, he sounded sincere, but in the few times I've seen him since, he hasn't acted differently. I mean, in a way that would show that he's, well, you know..."

"You mean, you'd like to know whether Sherlock is romantically attracted to you," Mycroft said bluntly.

Molly blushed harder.

Mycroft sighed. "Miss Hooper, I've known my brother as long as I've lived, yet there are some things that I cannot deduce about him. Mainly, in matters pertaining to... sentiment. In all honesty, I've long suspected that romantic attachments are just not his area, if you get what I mean. However, there have been some indications otherwise, at times. I have to admit, I simply don't know.

"Yet I do know that his statement was absolutely honest. You, Miss Hooper, are one of the people he holds dear, to the extent that it's clear that your loss would break him. Furthermore, you have a power over him that no one else has."

"Power?" Molly asked in confusion, trying to absorb all the man was saying.

"Yes. You have the power to bring his humanity to the fore, in a way no one else ever has."

"His humanity? But- but that's not me. I'm just the pathologist. He just comes to get what he wants, makes his requests, and I give in. How does that make him human?"

"You underestimate yourself, Miss Hooper. You are the only one who could make my brother actually understand human sentiment. I don't generally advise him to indulge, yet I do feel it's important for him to grasp it, at least."

"I don't understand. It's John who taught him how to behave. John is always on his case about acting kinder, and he gets Sherlock to listen to him. John is actually his friend, so doesn't he get the credit for teaching Sherlock, er, sentiment?"

"Miss Hooper, you have said it yourself so plainly. You have some power of deduction after all, though you don't always realize it yourself. You say that Dr. Watson lectures him on proper behavior. You also say he formed a friendship with my obnoxious little brother. Do you understand how he did it?"

"Not quite," the pathologist said quietly.

Mycroft's voice turned soft and pensive. "Imagine a man standing on top of a mountain, all alone, and having no way to come down. That was where my brother once was."

Molly felt her eyes filling.

"One day, a determined man climbs up the mountain. He joins the lonely man, on his terms. That is what Dr. Watson did. He joined Sherlock in his own world."

"That... that's a beautiful analogy," Moly blurted out.

Mycroft smiled patiently. "Dr. Watson admired Sherlock's mind. He joined him on his escapades. He shrugged off his sociopathic behaviors, and laughed at his mischievous ones. He accepted him fully, right where he was standing. Sherlock wasn't so alone anymore. But that wasn't enough.

"So Dr. Watson then had to serve as a bridge between Sherlock and the rest of humanity. He apologized for him, and smoothed things over with others. Then he attempted to teach Sherlock about social mores, and he got Sherlock to listen."

"That's, that's amazing. I mean, John taught him how to be human. So there wasn't anything left for me to do, was there?"

"Ah, but you're wrong. Because Sherlock was still on top of that mountain. He tried to follow instructions, but he still didn't _connect_ _,_ " Mycroft's tone was smugly satisfied.

"Oh," said Molly, her voice small. "But what did I do?"

"You've told me the tale of the Christmas party. I've heard it from Sherlock, too. Do you realize, Miss Hooper, that that was the only time, as far as I'm aware of, that Sherlock apologized sincerely, out of his own volition, for hurting someone's feelings? Do you get what you did for him? You made him connect his actions to the effects it had. You made him feel genuine remorse."

"I did?"

"Yes, you did. He never apologized to John for hurting him. If he went too far, he would try to make it up in a roundabout way, and only because he was afraid of losing him. Yet he still never completely grasped why he was wrong. Except when it came to you.

"Do you remember the time he asked for your help in faking his death?"

"Of course. He told me I count."

"Did John explain to him that you needed to hear that? Did he do it because you wouldn't help him otherwise?"

"No, but he said it because I told him... I told him I didn't count. I guess he felt bad."

Mycroft beamed at her. "Do you see? _He felt bad._ You made him take your feelings into consideration, Miss Hooper. You made him come down from the mountain, and connect with you."

"No, I didn't!" the petite pathologist burst out. "He was always so rude to me, so thoughtless. And I- I loved him, and he didn't see that, and he hurt me... and..." Molly's tears won the battle, and stole out of her eyelids, but she didn't pay any attention to them. "He didn't care! He just didnt!"

She felt a hesitant hand on her shoulder, as she sobbed out all her frustration and confusion.

"He was a blind idiot, Molly," Mycroft said softly. "Yet you won once again in the end. Don't you see? You made him say those three little words that he never told anyone before, _and mean it._ Once more, you opened his eyes. Until now, he would always climb back up the mountain, because that is where he felt safest, alone. Yet you changed him irretrievably. He has acknowledged his heart, his humanity. I say, well done, Molly Hooper, well done."

"So, does he truly love me?" she asked tearfully.

"Without question. You know, I saw him destroying your coffin. I don't think it was caused by his fear of losing you, because he knew you were safe. It was his anger at himself, for letting himself be so willfully blind to your feelings, for hurting you so much."

"I love him too, you know. And I don't mean my crush. I think he's a special human being, when he's not being an arrogant sod, that is."

"I fully agree with that sentiment," Mycroft smirked.

"I'm not even sure about my feelings for him now," Molly added. "I mean, I heard him say what I always dreamed of, but now, I don't need to hear it so desparately, if you know what I mean."

"Look, Molly, I trust you will figure it out. But whatever happens, you know you will always be a big part of Sherlock's life, and he will always owe you credit for the man he has become."

Molly gave a small smile. "Thank you, Mycroft."

"It was my pleasure," he said politely, yet she could detect the sincerity in his voice.

"What about you? You're not like Sherlock, I mean, you know how to speak to people, but, you are also alone on the mountaintop, aren't you?"

Mycroft's smile dropped, and he turned to look at her somberly. "Sherlock was born on the mountaintop, Miss Hooper. I put myself there."

He turned to leave, with a final, "Good day, Miss Hooper."

Molly looked after him for a long, long time.


End file.
